


Burning Strong

by BepisPerfected



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Comedy, Dunmer (Elder Scrolls), F/F, House Telvanni (Elder Scrolls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29559159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: ADunmer mage and her Flame Atronach companion must complete a seemingly simple fetch quest, only to be continuously thwarted by the surprising flammability of their environment.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Burning Strong

The crypt door shuddered. For the first time in untold millennium, the silence of death was broken. The heavy doors scrapped against each other, light pouring into the darkened mausoleum. Black claws curled through the crack, forcing the doors open with a grinding shriek. Flames erupted through the entryway, igniting the entire chamber with a deep orange glow. Carefully, two figures entered.

“Ugh, what is that stench? Nasty!”

The Dunmer coughed and pinched her nose, straining against the stench.

“Oh, I have no idea. I’m sure it has _nothing_ to do with the thousand-year-old rotting corpses that were in the rest of the ruin.” The Flame Atronach scoffed as she moved farther into the chamber.

“Yeah, thanks. I totally couldn’t have worked that out myself.”

“Then why did you ask the question?”

She stopped. “Does everything have to have a reason?”

The Atronach turned around to stare at her. “With you Lena? I’m lucky to ever get a reason. Now hurry up; this ruin isn’t going to scour itself.”

“Alright, alright.” The Dunmer pulled out a long roll of paper and a piece of charcoal. “See any cool murals on the walls for a rubbing?”

She spun, illuminating the chamber better. “Uh, what about that one there.”

“The one with the whale?”

“No, next to it. With the wolf fighting an owl.”

“I think it looks more like a hawk. Or maybe a really weird fish.”

The Atronach snorted. “Who cares what it looks like. It’s obviously the best carving here.”

“Yeah, fight scenes are my favorite too.” She said as they both moved towards the wall. The elemental leaned against the stonework to provide some extra light as the elf got to work. “Whoa, don’t get too close Ash, you don’t want to turn this paper to _ash_.” She turned and grinned proudly.

“Very funny.”

“Get it?”

“Yes I get it.”

“Because your name is Ash, and—”

“I GET IT!”

Lena’s smile widened. “Hey there, don’t get so _fired_ up about it.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

“I guess you could say I’m _on fire_ with these puns.”

“I am literally begging you to stop.”

“At this rate I’m bound to _burn out_!”

“That one didn’t even make any sense.”

“Oh yeah well… uh… _campfire_!”

Ash glared at her with utter contempt and disappointment. “I’m not even acknowledging that.”

“You just did.”

“Whatever. Just finish your rubbing.”

“I _also_ just did.”

She clapped her claws together. “Great! Now let’s move on. I think the only appropriate response to those puns would be to kill something. Violently. And if we don’t find more of those walking dead, that something is going to be you. In fact, I think every moment I restrain myself from acting on the urge to completely immolate you, I’m doing the world a disservice.”

“Okay buddy, let’s get you some draugr to burn.” The Dunmer hummed, stuffing the roll of paper back into her knapsack and marching deeper into the crypt. Ash grumbled and followed behind.

In the next chamber, she was far more in her element. Burial sarcophagi popped open and withered corpses rose to their feet to defend their tomb. The fire elemental summoned gouts of flame to scorch the restless dead, dancing around them as they crumbled to the floor. As the last one fell, a coffin at the top of a staircase had its lid thrown off. The body of a once great warrior climbed out and growled menacingly. Ash lobbed a firebolt at its knee and charged it. He raised his sword but she was too fast, dashing around him and swatting him off balance. The draugr tripped and tumbled down the steps, leaving burnt bits of charred armor and flesh from where the Atronach had touched him. Broken and beaten, the warrior tried to stand up at the bottom of the staircase as the Atronach grabbed him from behind. She dug her claws into his back as her body grew into an all-consuming blaze, then shredded him in half as his remains were reduced to cinders.

Ash roared victoriously as her form returned to normal, just as Lena approached. She was holding a flower pot with a wilted plant hanging off the side, seemingly unphased by the massacre that had just occurred.

“Hey, you think this is valuable? I heard ancient pottery can fetch a pretty decent price.”

In response, she picked up the warrior’s enchanted sword and pointed the handle towards her. “Ancient magic blade.”

“Ancient potted plant.” Lena countered. “This is a cultural artifact.”

“And a sword isn’t?”

“Good point, let’s bring both.”

“You’re not honestly considering carrying a jar of dirt around, are you?”

She didn’t answer.

“If you’re going to keep the vase, at least dump it out first. No one wants a couple-century-old dead plant. Or, better idea, just don’t bring it with you at all because it’s stupid and ridiculous and I hate it!”

The Dunmer cuddled the pot defensively. “Don’t be like that. I thought you _wanted_ to go on an adventure and fight monsters and stuff.”

“Not when I’m the _only_ one fighting. And when I’m not doing that, I’m acting as your own personal torch. Can you even really call this an adventure?”

“How could I not? We were in a shipwreck!”

“Yes, a shipwreck _you_ caused!”

“I got lonely.”

“It doesn’t take a Master Wizard to figure out that if you summon a Flame Atronach inside a wooden ship, it’s bound to catch on fire!”

“But I needed someone to talk to!”

“So you summoned _me_?”

“You have no idea how boring it is on a boat.”

“No, no I don’t! You know why? Because the only boat I’ve ever been on burned to a crisp at sea! And now it’s at the bottom of the ocean, alongside a strongbox full of gold, and now we’re stuck here arguing about the market value of some decrepit vase!”

Lena looked up at her with wide eyes and a childish frown.

“Don’t… Those puppy eyes won’t work on me!”

She continued. “Do you feel better now? Because you yelled at me?”

“No, I’m still mad at you. This _is_ all your fault.”

Her eyes only grew wider and sadder. “But I’m reeeeeeeally sorry.”

“No! I am _not_ forgiving you! I don’t care what face you pull!”

Her lower lip quivered as she tilted her head down, amplifying her sorrowful gaze.

The Atronach’s cheek twitched angrily. “Damn it! Fine, I give in.”

“Yay!” Lena shouted and pulled her into a hug, her mage armor spell crackling against Ash’s flaming body.

“Get off of me.” She scoffed, freeing herself from the elf’s grip. “We’re still a long way away from our proper stop.”

The Dunmer flipped the pot upside down, letting the dusty soil fall to the ground. “True enough, but in the meantime, no hard feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ash sighed.

Within the treasure room, the pair found very little of interest. A set of old steel cuffed boots, a spoiled stamina potion with a completely rotted cap, and a handful of a few dozen gold sat within the largest chest, with a few coins sprinkled in and around the various urns of the room. Disappointed, they left the ruin behind and ventured out into the freezing wastes.

After the wrecking of their ship, the duo had been slowly making their way northwards towards the town of Winterhold, the capital of the hold that shared its name, their original destination. So far they had only been able to scavenge a few fox pelts, a horker tusk, and a long bow from a dead hunter’s camp they had stayed in the night before, and a brassy gear-shaped cup found half buried in the snow at the side of the road. Combined with their worn steel boots, soggy wall rubbing, rusty flower pot, and dulled sword, neither was confident that they would be able to make up the nearly 2000 septims worth of funds they had lost to the sea.

They travelled along the roads, with Lena staying close to her flaming companion to stay warm amongst the freezing winds of the tundra. The sun hung low in the sky as they arrived at an inn, and they could hear the sound of life inside.

“Finally, a tavern! I can’t wait to get a bite to eat and put up my feet! I’m beat.” The elf stated thankfully.

“I would like to assume that you were trying intentionally to make that rhyme, but I’ve learned better than to get my hopes up.”

“Whine, whine, whine. Why whine when you can unwind with some wine?” She smirked as she leapt up the steps towards the door. “Come on.”

The Atronach did not follow. “Yeah, great idea. I can think of at least three good reasons off the top of my head why _not_ to do that.”

“Are all three of them just: ‘because my name is Ash and I am no fun’?”

“Hardly. First off, I am freezing out here and I want nothing better to do than to return to my home realm of eternal magma and fire. Second, I doubt a bunch of backwater Nords would take kindly to seeing so casually a creature from said realm of eternal fire and magma.”

“Don’t you mean _kindle_ -y?” Lena grinned. “Like kindly, but with kindling. Because that’s used for fires.”

“And thirdly,” Ash stated, trying to ignore her companion’s awful pun, “and most importantly, such an aforementioned creature from the aforementioned realm of eternal fire and magma would not react well to being in a predominantly wooden structure, as evidenced by past experiences.”

The Dunmer nodded vigorously. “Yes, I see. You raise some very good points and I respect your perspective. However, I stopped paying attention because they all sounded boring.”

“Why do I even try?” Ash rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Here, I have a great idea.” In one quick motion, she grabbed the sword out of Lena’s knapsack and stabbed herself through the chest. “Oh no. My physical form has been compromised. Whatever should I do? I guess I’ll just have to return to the realm of Oblivion. What an utter inconvenience.”

With that, the Atronach’s body dissipated into useless energy and exploded into a large fireball. The blast shattered Lena’s mage armor, but as she collected the sword from the melted puddle of snow she was more annoyed than hurt.

“Drama queen.”

Inside, the tavern was warm and bright. A long fire burned in the center, with a bar at the opposite end. Lena made her way past the couple other patrons straight to the bar and smirked to the barkeep. He was a large and burly Nord, with a hefty mustache on his lip.

“How much is it to rent a room?”

He crossed his arms. “Thirty gold, per night.”

“You’re kidding. That’s triple what any other inn charges. This isn’t exactly prime real estate.”

The bartender snorted. “Hrmph. Tourist. This inn is the last place in all of Winterhold that High King Borgas stayed before his death. He was the last of Ysgrammor’s line, the last of the High Kings to take their seat in Winterhold before the Wars of Succession. True Nords have been coming here since the First Era to pay their respects. The price is to honor a King, and a hold, that the rest of Skyrim has forgotten.”

“Yeah but does that really warrant a 300% price hike?”

“Let me put it another way: The sun’s nearly set. Do you think you can find another inn out there before you freeze to death?”

“Fine.” Lena dug around in her knapsack for enough coins, then laid them out on the table. As the Nord counted them, she decided to press him for more history. “So how did the king die?”

“Killed by the wood elves in one of their Wild Hunts, where they use devilish magics to turn themselves into monsters more plant than mer. Wood elves, Dark elves, High elves; why do your kind keep getting mixed into our politics? Why don’t you and your magic ever just let us be?” He boomed dangerously.

“Listen, I’m just a traveller that got herself a little lost. I was only sent to Skyrim to pick up a package, I’m not trying to get mixed into anything.” She put her hands up, as if that would prove her innocence.

The bartender flicked a key at her and pointed to one of the rooms. “You get one night. Be out of here by midday.”

Lena snatched the key and scurried away, locking herself inside the room she had rented. There was some fruit and cheeses already on the table, so she snacked on them before turning in for the night. She slept soundly, so exhausted from a day of walking that nothing short of the gods themselves could have woken her. In the morning, she lazily got up and dressed herself, idly crunching on the last apple in the bowl of food as she did so. Once she was content and ready to leave, she picked up her bag and unlocked the door.

The scene that greeted her was one of complete destruction. The inn was no more, replaced with the blackened bones of timber and the embers of immolated thatch. Black charcoal lay in piles all over the floor, save for that just in front of Lena’s door. A charred beam had fallen just in front of it, protecting it from damage. The rest of the tavern had not been so fortunate. Very little remained to even distinguish what the structure once had been, except for the barkeeper kneeling amongst the wreckage.

“What happened here?”

The Nord whipped around, soot coating his whole body. Half of his mustache was burnt off. “You… You did this!”

“What?” She leaped back. “I would never advocate for a half-stache. It doesn’t look good on anybody.”

“How come that room’s the only one left standing? Elves and mages are all bad luck. It’s just like the damn College all over again!”

“Don’t blame me for this! When I shut that door, you still had your full lip caterpillar! It was probably the big fire pit that torched the place.”

“The blaze started at the front door, trapping everyone inside. The fire pit couldn’t have done that.”

“And you think I could?”

The Nord growled in thought, trying to work out some way to prove that a fire could have been started through multiple walls, and Lena took this opportunity to slip out the charred remains of the entrance. Before she could get far, the burn marks on the steps caught her eye.

“Oh, hold on. Hold on. Wait, no way!” With a flash of spectacle, she summoned her Atronach.

Ash appeared in a flurry of magic and grace, and as soon as she arrived her shoulders dropped. “No… not another one. Please tell me you didn’t burn this one down too!”

The Dunmer grinned. “I can say with confidence that _I_ didn’t.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Well that’s good to hear.”

“You did.”

“What?”

She pulled out the sword from her bag and used it to trace the burn lines on the ground. “Look at this, the flames originated from a central point, just outside the inn. Now I’m having a hard time remembering, but if I recall, there was a bit of a fiasco in this spot last night.”

Ash was silent.

“Oh that’s right! A certain melodramatic Atronach thought it would be a good idea to kill herself right there. Of course, she must have known that doing that right in front of a wooden building would have sent cinders flying and potentially started a fire.”

She rubbed a hand across her face. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Who’s irresponsible now?”

“Don’t give me that smug look! It’s still you. You were first!”

“Yeah, well now we’re even.” The Dunmer crossed her arms confidently.

“Even? How? We’ve burned the livelihoods of two random people! That’s not getting even, it’s just destruction of property.”

“YOU!” The barkeep thundered into view. “I knew it had something to do with you! You and that fire demon!”

Ash lifted a finger to the sky to correct him. “Actually, the proper term is ‘flame Atronach’, just one of a variety of—”

“I’ll kill you!” He raised his axe and stormed towards them.

The elemental leapt back as the Nord swung, letting his blow land uselessly in the snow. Ash countered with a backflip kick, but he caught her leg before it could connect and slammed her hard onto the ground. The cold dampened her flames, which only made his grip tighten.

“You’ve ruined me!” He bellowed, lifting his axe again. “And now I’m gonna put you down!”

“Don’t get a _head_ of yourself!” Lena shouted, sword raised high above her.

She brought it down towards his neck, but missed and lodged it deep into his collarbone. The Nord screamed and toppled over, releasing his grip on both Ash and his axe.

“Oh, real nice one. That one-liner would have been pretty good if you’d managed to actually take his head off, but once again you demonstrate your amazing ability to disappoint at even the simplest tasks.” The Atronach said, floating back up to full height.

“Cut me some slack, I’ve never used a sword before.”

“Really? I had no idea.” She snorted.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The Nord shrieked

“Hey, I saved your life.”

“Big deal. It’s not like I’ll just rematerialize in Oblivion like always. In fact, I would even say that it would have been _better_ to let him kill me. There’s a good chance that he’d get caught up in the explosion, taking him out too. Then I wouldn’t have to bear witness to that tragedy of facial hair.”

"It really does look terrible, doesn't it?"

“AHHHHHHH! AH AH! GRRRRRUUUGHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

The elf raised an eyebrow. “Still, this whole mess started because you exploded. Who knows what might happen if you did it again.”

“Good point. Even though the inn has already burned down completely, maybe it could have caught on double fire.” She shook her hands in emphasis.

“Double fire? Is that a thing?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“100%?”

“And then some.”

“I want an exact number.”

“AHHHHHGGGHHHHH! YEEEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Will you shut up? We’re trying to have a conversation here.” Lena scoffed. “Some people are just so rude.”

“Is that what you call it?” Ash frowned.

“Eh, let’s just leave him and get going. We’re wasting daylight here.”

“Forgetting something?”

“Oh, right. The sword. Good catch.” She tried to grab the hilt as the barkeeper writhed in blood-soaked agony. Every time she got her fingers on it, he would contort it out of her grasp. “Stay still! Quit moving so much.”

“Use your foot for leverage. It’ll keep him steady.”

“AHHHHHHH! AHHHGGGGHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

She planted her boot firmly on his ear, leaning her weight on it to hold him down. “Like this?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now pull it out.”

“YEEEAAAOOWWWWW! NOOOOO! PAAAAAAIIIINNNNN! AHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

“It’s really wedged in there.”

Ash sighed. “Of course it is. Of course! Because nothing we do can ever be easy.”

“I’m pulling but it’s not moving. I think I got it really jammed into the bone.”

“You got to jiggle it.”

“I _am_ jiggling it.”

“No, that’s definitely wiggling. You’ve got to jiggle it!”

“Like this?”

“Yes, but with less hips. You really want it all in the arms. Get your wrists into it.”

“HELLPP MEEEEE! SOMEBODY PLEASE! AHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH! HELP!! AAAAAHHHHHGGHHH!”

“Is my form okay?”

“What are you doing with your knees?”

“I’m trying to get more leverage.”

“Oh I see the problem now. You’ve been jiggling your legs, not the sword.”

“Well it’s really easy to confuse them.” Lena adjusted her grip. “Okay let me try again.”

The elf shuddered and shook the blade with all the violence of a pre-teen on a sugar rush until finally the sword dislodged itself, flinging it up and through the neck of the Nord. His head rolled away from the body, contorted into a permanent horrified scream.

“I guess that’s one way to do it.” Ash grimaced. “Once again we’ve committed completely unprompted and unmotivated cold-blooded murder.”

“Again? When did we murder anyone before?”

“Have you forgotten that we burned down a boat? Like, literally three days ago?”

“Yeah but no one died.”

“What do you think happened to the crew?”

“They probably got into the lifeboats. That’s what _I_ did.”

“There was only one lifeboat. You cut off all the other ones!”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because they were catching on fire! They couldn’t be on fire if they were in the water. Duh.”

“And how exactly do you think they would get into them if they were already cut off from the ship?”

“Swim?”

“Swim. That water was freezing cold, maybe even below freezing! Even if they did get onto a lifeboat, they would get frostbite and die.”

“Not if they warmed themselves on the fires.”

“The fires that you put out by dropping the lifeboats into the sea you mean.”

“Yes.”

“Do you see the issue with that logic?”

“Oh… yeah.” She scratched her chin. “Well maybe the burning ship warmed up the water.”

“The—” Ash rubbed the sides of her head. “Yes, the burning ship warmed up the water, and all the crew had a jolly old time. It was like a hot tub.”

“Well yeah, I mean you were there and you’re pretty hot. That must have warmed it up.”

“Was that another fire pun?”

“No it was just a complement, but man that would have made it so much better.”

“Sure…”

Lena looked up at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to compliment me back?”

She crossed her arms. “Why would I do that, especially now, while you are still holding onto the weapon you used to decapitate an ignorant, albeit still innocent, man?”

“Because we’re best friends and best friends complement each other to raise their self-esteem so they don’t feel bad about any atrocities they may or may not have potentially been responsible for.”

“Fine whatever.” She thought for a second. “Your ability to evade reality is unmatched.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“Now let’s toss this guy’s remains on the rest of the wreckage and get out of here.”

The Dunmer looked back at the smoldering tavern. “Remains…”

“Yeah, great to see that your ears still work.”

“I have an idea.” She tossed the sword to the elemental and took out the flower pot, filling it up with soot and char. “Cook that blood into the blade. I think I know how we can get all our lost money back.”

The pair walked for the rest of the day north to Winterhold, finally arriving late in the afternoon. Ash doused herself outside of town so she would not end up blazing an entire town, leaving Lena to proceed into the frosty village alone. She found the largest of the buildings and made her way inside.

“Is this the Councilor’s manor?” She asked, poking her head inside.

From across the longhouse, a great Nord bellowed. “This is the seat of Jarl Korir of Winterhold. State your business.”

“Oh, nice. I’m in the right place after all.” She said, eagerly approaching the throne.

Korir was not so excited. “I said State Your Business, elf.”

She bowed. “My Jarl, I am a Telvanni apprentice. Er, adventurer. In scouring one of the many ancient ruins of your wonderful wintery hold, I came across a relic that I believe is crucial to all of Skyrim’s history.” She pulled out the sword and pot filled with ash, and presented them respectfully. “Here I hold the remains of High King Borgas, last of Ysgramor’s line, last of the High Kings of Winterhold, and his sword, which he used against the Bosmer during a great Wild Hunt. As you can see, the blade is coated with the blood of those he slaughtered, boiled into the metal by his fury.”

The Jarl studied the two objects with intense fascination. “Borgas was given a burial by fire? All the great leaders of Winterhold have been returned to the Earth.”

“Well, uh…” Lena stumbled, doing her best with what the barkeep had told her. “You see, the Wild Hunt is an abominable thing. There was hardly enough of the great king to bury at all, so his soldiers collected all they could… to retain his honor!”

“Aye, that was a time of great turmoil.” Korir mused solemnly. “Please, may I inspect his urn? I regret that I do not know much of the ancient tongue, but I should be able to recognize enough.”

Hesitantly, she offered the flower pot to him. “Of course, my Jarl.”

He traced the lines of the five sections of the vase, running his fingers along the grooves as if the rust could tell him a story. “Ah, yes. I have no doubt at all. This truly is the urn of the great king! It tells the story of his rule.”

“It does?” The Dunmer tried to stop herself from sounding so surprised.

“Aye! Look here. This word is Seed. No doubt this tells the story at how Borgas used his own royal funds to support the people during the Three-Years Famine. And here, next to it, Water. Under his reign, Skyrim’s navy was the strongest it had been since Ysgrammor himself took to the seas! After that, this word is Sun, obviously a reference to the Alessian Order of the One, which Borgas instated instead of the old Nordic Pantheon. Next is Growth, a clear reference to how the province prospered under the High King’s rule. And lastly, Plant, telling of his death at the hands of the plant-beasts of Valenwood.”

“Ah, indeed.” Lena nodded. “That pot’s inscriptions were made for the High King and nothing else.”

“You’ve done all of Winterhold a great service by returning these to us. Our hold is not the richest, but allow me to offer you three-thousand septims as thanks.”

She blinked once, then once again, trying to hide her wide grin. “I’m sorry, did you say _three-thousand_?”

“And we’ll have a celebration in the High King’s honor!”

“Oh, my Jarl, you’re too kind.” She bowed again. “I humbly accept all of it. Every last cent.”

“Excellent! I will have my steward begin on the preparations right away. After he delivers your reward, of course.”

She spent the night in the tavern across the way, far too excited by her successes to sleep. The next morning, the Dunmer took her bag full of money up to the College of Winterhold, but was stopped at the gate.

An Altmer wizard blocked her path. “You are not a member here, and the gate will not open for you. Unless you seek to join the College, you best be heading the other way.”

“Actually, I’m here on business.” She stated happily, pulling out a piece of paper from her knapsack. “My name is Naylena Ardu, apprentice under Master Wizard Vosith of House Telvanni. He has requested a staff from one of your mages here, and I have been sent all the way from Morrowind to collect it. I’m a little late. I trust you know how unreliable ships can be.”

The wizard read the letter thoroughly before handing it back. “I apologize. It seems you’ll be wanting Phinis Gestor. I’d be more than happy to take you to him, if he’s not currently in the middle of a lecture.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“And please, tell your Master that we are so appreciative of his recognition. So few of the Telvanni remain that consider us as a worthy establishment for learning about magic, it is good to have the support of at least one Master Wizard.”

“I’ll make sure he knows.”

A few hours later, Lena retuned to the town proper, with a staff in her hand and her bag two-thousand coins lighter, to see it had been decorated. The Jarl had held to his promise to set up a celebration in honor of the dead King, and the townsfolk had clearly been busy putting up whatever they could scrounge together. Instead of confetti, they had gathered dried hay and tossed it liberally down the central pathway, roughspun sacks had been sliced up to make bunting and hung from the thatch roofs, and a large barrel of mead had been rolled out in front of the local tavern. People were mingling just as she arrived, so she wasted no time joining them.

The party was surprisingly fun, despite the poor conditions. The few people in attendance quickly decided that staying outside was becoming an increasingly bad idea as the sun set, and moved into the tavern where it was warm to continue the night. Korir held a toast in honor of High King Borgas and specifically thanked Lena in front of the crowd for returning his ashes to Winterhold. It wasn’t until a group of people that she suspected might have been from the College decided to drunkenly study the King’s urn that she decided to slip away into the cold night. She summoned Ash at the edge of town and the two made their way back into the wilderness against the gentle wind.

“And he really believed you?” Ash asked after her friend had told her the story of the last day or so. “Forget being an apprentice mage, you should be a merchant!”

“Yeah right.” The elf laughed. “I’m pretty sure that those college guys are going to see right through my lie. If they’re not drunk enough to translate ancient Nordic script, that is.”

“You say that like it’s easy to do sober.”

“I don’t know. It might be. I’ve never tried.”

Ash shrugged. “Either way, sounds like a pretty sweet party. I can smell the barbeque from here.”

“Barbeque?”

“Yeah. Maybe it was roasted meats or something. You mortals’ food is all weird to me.”

“No that’s not what I mean. We didn’t have any of that.”

“You smell it too, don’t you though?”

“Yeah it smells like…” Lena’s eyes went wide, and instantly they both had the same thought. “Smoke.”

The pair turned around. They could see Winterhold in the distance, clearly silhouetted against a raging blaze.

Ash clamped her hands around her horns in disbelief. “You cannot be serious! Again?”

“Wow are we really going three for three right now?”

“How? HOW! I wasn’t even in town!”

“You didn’t happen to stand near any of that hay, did you?” The elf scratched her chin.

“Hay? What hay?”

“The hay that they scattered down the road.”

“Let me guess, the same road that we walked out on?”

“Yep.”

The fire elemental groaned, took a breath to compose herself, then turned her back to the inferno to face the path ahead of them. “Look on the bright side—”

“I don’t know how it could get any brighter; that’s one hell of a fireball.” As if on command, an explosion erupted from within the town. “Ah, nope, I guess it can. I forgot about all that mead they had.”

She forced a smile. “Well, I can assure you that your fake burial urn is the least of their concerns right now.”

“Yeah, it’s probably more use to them as a water bucket than anything!” Lena laughed. “This has been enough excitement for one day. Let’s head home.”

And so they did, over the course of multiple days of intense and arduous travel, first by cart, then chartered ship, then horse, then another less-flammable ship, then slave-driven palanquin, then stolen rowboat, then ancient dwarven funicular, then experimental glider, then medical gurney, and finally with a band of skooma-huffing nomadic necromancers and their herd of resurrected feral riding guar. Despite these varied means of transport and the exceptional circumstances in which they were encountered, they were all without fail unforgivably dull and boring, and not worth recounting.

At last, the pair arrived in front of the small Telvanni stronghold of Tel Ruuht, constructed entirely out of massive mushrooms and fungal pods. The largest of the caps was the wizard’s tower, the domicile of Master Vosith. Lena also called the peat-scented cap home, ever since beginning her apprenticeship under the Master Wizard many years prior. He had not directly taught her very much in that time, but she’d picked up plenty while taking notes for him on his experiments. As she entered the wizard’s chamber, she hoped that the delivery of this special staff would earn her some proper training.

“Master, I’m back!” She called, arriving at the top of the tower.

Vosith was intently flipping through an old tome, and scowled at the voice that had interrupted him. “Not now, I’m right in the middle of—” As soon as he saw his apprentice’s face, his expression changed. “Naylena? You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. You would not believe what I’ve gone through!” She smiled, placing the staff down on a nearby table and setting down her knapsack.

“No, no. I mean late as in dead, though its only typical of you to confuse the two. Whoever reanimated your corpse must have been truly gifted to retain all your…” He stirred his hand as if it was reeling the word out of his brain. “…annoying mannerisms. I didn’t realize that child Gestor was so talented.”

“But Master, I’m not dead. I think. I’m at least 80% sure.”

“Hmph. You might as well be. I figured a work around for my experiment without that staff mere hours after I sent you away, and when you didn’t return as expected I got a new apprentice to take your place.” Vosith frowned and turned back to his book, completely uninterested.

“W-what? You can’t be serious!”

“I am always serious, Naylena. If you ever bothered to pay attention, you would know that by now.”

“How could you get a new apprentice? It hasn’t even been a week since I was supposed to come back!”

He snapped the book shut. “There are certain expectations for those who wish to be under the mentorship of a Master Wizard of the Telvanni. Tardiness of any kind is not one of them, nor is being rude and argumentative.”

“I WAS IN A SHIPWRECK! I was stranded in the wilds of Skyrim for days! I nearly died! _Multiple_ times! Some of them weren’t even my fault!” 

“That is no excuse. The world doesn’t revolve around you, and I am far too busy to make it. Besides, my new apprentice is far more talented, and less accident prone, than you ever were. He shows remarkable promise.”

“Talented? I’m a practiced atromancer! I’m pretty sure that’s the word. Someone who conjures Atronachs. That’s me! Like, all the time! And not just temporary summons, no! Lasting ones!”

“You? An atromancer? Pah! Don’t insult me. I doubt you could even maintain the tiniest spectral familiar, less bind a creature from Oblivion.”

“You don’t believe me? I’ll show you! I’ll show you right now!”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it’s very impressive. Though instead of embarrassing yourself with some elaborate lightshow, how about doing something actually useful instead.” He pointed to a bag resting against the corner of the room. “Why don’t you take that sack I had filled with all your belongings and run along to… really anywhere else. I don’t care. Just not here, or anywhere in the general vicinity.”

“You… already packed my stuff?” She could barely bring herself to speak.

“Yes, I was originally going to have it just thrown into the sea, but you’ve provided a much more convenient method for me to rid myself of them, and you, at the same time. Take that staff as well while you are at it. I do not want unneeded trash cluttering up my workspace. That includes you, in case you were wondering.” Vosith fluttered his fingers towards the exit. “Now… shoo.”

“Did you just ‘shoo’ me?”

“Yes, and I’ll do it again. Allow me to demonstrate: Shoo!” He repeated the movement. “Begone.”

“Oh yeah? Well… You know who you can’t shoo? The College of Winterhold!”

“I can shoo whoever I want. Why should I care about them?”

“Because… uh, because… because they say you’re no Master Wizard. You’re just a street musician in fancy robes!”

He scowled. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“Yeah? How about that! They also told me to tell you that they wouldn’t even accept you to sweep the floors, no less practice magic.”

“It’s abundantly clear that you’re simply projecting in the form of baseless, unfounded indignities. If this is some attempt to hurt my feelings, I’m afraid, like you, it’s a complete and utter failure.”

“And they think your tower smells bad!”

He stamped his foot angrily. “Impossible! Ridiculous! I bought scented candles!”

“They think it stinks worse than fermented mudcrab droppings!” she sneered.

“Get out already! Get out! Damn it, where’s the spare candles!”

When next Ash was summoned, she appeared in a whirl of magic with the same elegance as always. She immediately recognized the waning forest of mushrooms and the heavy abundance of greyish-lavender ash as the edge of Tel Ruuht. Lena was sitting on the trunk of a fallen stalk, tying a string around the top of a heavy bag with her head down.

“You ready to head out on another adventure?” The mage asked, not looking up.

“Already? Seems like we only just got here. I though time was more consistent between our realms.”

The elf stood up and forced a smile, despite the wet lines running down her cheeks. “No, no. It’s not been long at all. We’re just… going somewhere else now.”

“Whoa, whoa hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. C’mon, talk to me. We’re best friends, right? You can tell me anything.”

Lena’s smile turned from fake to genuine in an instant and her eyes grew wide. “Really?”

Ash turned away and folded her arms to hide her own grin. “Yeah, I had to admit it sooner or later.”

Before the elemental could react, she was yanked into a hug. Her grip was surprisingly tight, as evidenced by the intense crackling of her mage armor spell, but Ash allowed it just this once and returned the gesture. They only released it once the spell sizzled and popped, breaking the safety barrier of their embrace.

“Feel a little better?”

“A little.”

“Let’s see if we can’t work on drying those tears then, eh?” She raised a searing hot claw up towards her cheek.

“Ow. Ow. Ow! OW! OW!!”

“Too close? Sorry!”

“I think you might have burned me.”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, that’s what we have healing spells for.” Lena said as she surrounded herself in a regenerative golden aura.

“How about we just stick to words, for now. At least I took your mind off it for a second.”

“I wouldn’t recommend repeating that method if I were you.”

“Hopefully I won’t have to. What happened anyway?”

She sighed and rubbed her knuckles uncomfortably. “Vosith replaced me.”

“Replaced you?”

“Yep. Tossed me out like last week’s scraps for his new protégé.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. You’ve been with him for years!”

“Didn’t matter. He still thinks I’m a failure. He took the first chance he could to get rid of me. Honestly, can you blame him? I’m a complete screw up.”

Ash’s flames flared defensively. “No you’re not! How could you say that?”

“How could I not? All I’ve done since leaving here is burn things and ruin people’s lives. I literally cut a guy’s head off!”

“Okay, yeah, the serial arson and murder is pretty inexcusable. I’m not going to defend that. _But_! You’re also not a failure! Look at me? I’m only here because you brought me here. Vosith didn’t do that, did he? No, that was all you. And completely self-taught too. Remember when you first summoned me in the tower cellar?”

“Yeah, I nearly got burnt to a crisp. Its only thanks to the fact that the basement is made of stone that I didn’t bring down the whole tower too.” Lena frowned. “But what does that have to do with anything? It’s just more proof that I’m awful with magic.”

“Not at all! Look at how far you’ve come! I have a consistent form, I no longer get banished after a short time, or explode randomly like before. Sure, I might be a bit more volatile and flammable than perhaps I should be, but in time I’m sure you’ll fix that too. It takes a skilled mage to do all that without proper training, so I’ve heard.”

“So you’ve heard?”

“No I… It’s not important.”

“It must have been important enough to mention.”

Ash snarled. “That’s— I was just being an idiot and not thinking before I spoke. I put up with enough of your dumbassery, it must just be wearing off on me.”

“Because we’re best friends.”

“Shut up.”

She gazed sorrowfully up at the Atronach. “Please will you tell me?”

“Don’t use the face.”

“Pretty please?”

“Don’t you dare use the face.”

She stuck her bottom lip out. “But you said we were best friends…”

“I wouldn’t care if you were dying in my arms! You can’t just make some stupid face and suddenly I have no secrets!”

“If you told me, you wouldn’t have to keep it a secret.”

“Yes! That’s the point of it being a secret, to— STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!”

She neared the highest level of pitiful sadness that a mortal face could achieve. “Pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Rrrrrh! Son of a—” The elemental grumbled and kicked a pile of ash. “FINE! Fine! It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“It matters to me.”

Ash rubbed her arm and looked to the side. “Yeah, well, I guess its, it's like, er, the thing is I’d… never… _actually_ been summoned by anyone else before you.”

The elf gasped. “I was your first?”

“Whatever! Don’t make a big deal out of it.” She growled.

“It’s kind of a big deal.”

“It really isn’t.”

“No, you’re right it isn’t. But still: Awwww! We’re special!”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, I guess we are, sorta. If not to anyone else, we’re special to each other.”

“Yeah! Screw Vosith! All he ever did was bring me down! You and me, we support each other! No one can extinguish that!”

“ _And_ you ruined the moment with a fire pun.”

“Oh, come on. You know you love them.”

“I _really_ don’t.” She picked up the staff and twirled it in her hand before plating it hard into the ground. “Well, might as well get moving. No use sticking around here.”

Lena beamed. “Was that a stick pun?”

“You can bet your life it wasn’t.” The elemental looked out into the distance. “No, just think, the world’s opened up to us now. We can do what we want, go where we please, carve a new path through life.”

“Blaze a new trail?”

Ash fumed. “I take back literally every good thing I have ever said about you.”

The Dunmer rolled her eyes as she picked up her bags. “I can always count on you to overreact.”

“Hey, you’re the one who chooses to summon me.”

“Like anyone else would put up with me.” She laughed. “So what should we do? Where should we go?”

“Heh, you think that there’s a business in torching people’s property?”

“What, like for revenge or whatever?”

“I mean I wasn’t being serious but heck, why not? People pay for assassins and thieves, why not arsonists? That’s got to be a thing somewhere, right?”

“ _No_? Because it’s _illegal_?”

“Yeah, because that’s totally stopped us before.”

“You got me there. Hell, between you and that staff, not even the law could stop us.”

“The staff? What does it have to do with anything?”

“Didn’t I tell you what it does.”

“If you did, would I be asking?”

“Fair point. It’s called the Staff of Mass Incineration. The destructive potential is legendary, so much so that the Mages Guild outlawed them. Nowadays they’re exceptionally rare. Vosith wanted it to simulate the conditions inside a volcano, but from what that mage Phinis Gestor was telling me, he’d be more likely to burn a hole through the top of Tel Ruuht.”

“Is that so?” Ash stared at the huge mushroom. “Say, I think I’ve got an idea for our first job.”

High on the mountainside, the pair sat against a rock wall next to their ramshackle campsite. They had built it under a stone overhang in case it rained, but for now they were content to enjoy the night air. Each held a tankard in their hand, one bubbling with ale on the edge of boiling, and the other with too much foam. The scene before them was well lit by the massive pyre of light in the ashen plains below.

“A toast, to a job well done.” Lena stated ceremoniously, raising her tankard.

Ash clinked hers on it, then begrudgingly took a sip. “Eugh. I don’t know how you mortals drink this stuff.”

“It _is_ supposed to be served cold. Like revenge.”

“I think we’ve been serving it wrong then. All of we’ve done is hot revenge.”

“Oh my gosh! We should start a restaurant, but the gimmick is that we serve all the dishes the opposite temperature!”

“That is the worst idea you’ve had in at least a few days.”

“Oh come on, I can practically smell it!”

“All I smell is overcooked mushroom.”

The flames of Tel Ruuht lapped at the sky like a hundred vaporous tongues, and the floating embers blended into the specks of stars. Without warning, a chunk of the main cap collapsed and crushed the apothecary pod below, sending up a plume of blazing fungal spores. The alchemist who had lived and worked in the pod had been evacuated along with everyone else under the Master Wizard’s employ, as Vosith had desperately tried to save his tower. Seeing it fall apart made their victory all the sweeter.

“Just imagine it with some salt and butter, maybe a little garlic… delicious.”

“And what happens when we inevitably burn the restaurant down too?”

Lena shrugged. “Eh, we’ll move on. World of opportunities, right? Anything’s possible.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Ash made a sideways glace at the elf. “Just keep those bad ideas coming we don't want to _burn_ through all our opportunities.”

Her jaw dropped. “Did you just make a fire pun? Did I actually just hear that?”

She only shrugged. “Like you said. Anything’s possible.”

All through the night and even long after the sun had risen, the flames continued burning strong.


End file.
